The tide is rolling, rolling in

The shoreline surpasses its mark

It straddles a crust of rock,

I open my flask of gin.


My head is filled with fear and hate

I consider turning myself around

But heavy fog and mist surround:

I sit and wait and postulate.


I command an army in my head:

Pawns, knights, a king and queen

Players cast in a monochrome scene-

Captured, conquered, surrendered: dead.


A shining torch flashes across my view

A light so lambent, sharp and white

Now passes, faces into night

And navigates the brave and lonely few.


And navigates the brave and lonely few.